


you carried romance in the palm of your hand

by gameofthrows



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofthrows/pseuds/gameofthrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the dumpee, Nick deserves all the friends and all the sympathy.</p><p>Or, in which they get outed too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you carried romance in the palm of your hand

**Author's Note:**

> You carried romance in the palm of your hand,  
> you put the breaks on this  
> (drove me wild - Tegan and Sara)
> 
> For Becky aka [ stripyhouse](http://stripyhouse.tumblr.com) who won a silly contest about how long Nick's self control can last and requested outing fic. 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta: [ starkwords](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blaqkheaven) for putting up with me and putting together the tweets.

 

 

* * *

 

There were a few times over the past two years that Nick wondered if Harry wanted to be outed. A few times when he stood to close in front of the paparazzi or kissed Nick hot and open mouthed in the dark corners of bars in Dalston, almost begging for someone with a keen eye and a camera phone to snap a photo and sell it to the highest bidder.

It would be difficult – there are reasons they’re not out and they involve thousands of screaming girls and uptight parents who think Nick’s too old or parties too hard – but they’d be together. They could walk down the street holding hands and leave clubs at the same time without needing a female friend acting as a buffer.  Nick could stop referring to Harry as “my friend” on the show and he could pick Harry up from the airport and fly out to see him when he’s away on tour for too long. It would be difficult, but Harry couldn’t be blamed if tickets dropped because  it was an accident. And it would be worth it.

Of course that is and isn’t how it happens. When the pictures leak onto Twitter (a friend lost a phone in a club)  it’s already over. It’s been over for almost a month and Harry’s in bloody Europe and Nick’s got to deal with all of this on his own.

“You’re not in this alone,” Is the first thing Jonathan from Hackford and Jones says when he shows up at five thirty in the morning, coffees, blessedly, in hand. “I’m going to be blunt with you Nick. Most of our focus is on Harry, but you’ve got me and I’ve not let you down yet, have I?”

“We can do whatever he wants,” Nick shrugs. His eyes feel hot and dry, “I don’t care.”

“He’s not going to deny it. It would be too hard to at this point, but we’re going to push the bisexuality angle with an emphasis on the girls, obviously.  We’ll send him out to clubs with a few models on his arm. Have him pick out a girl from the crowd again. There’s a chance this might actually be good for him if we can get the proper social justice angle on it.”  

“Fine,” Nick interrupts, feeling more tired than he had before he was brought coffee. “What does he need me to say?”  

“The truth.” Jonathan’s shark toothed grin appears like it does whenever he talks business. “A limited version of the truth anyway:  You were friends, you had a go dating, but now it’s over. The distance was too hard. No more than that. And stay hazy on the timeline. Swift’s people have been calling all morning and have made it clear they’ll destroy us if we admit that was a publicity stunt. “

Nick shuffles through the contents of his refrigerator as Jonathan explains just to have something to do. The contents include three bottles of wine, a pint of milk, two containers of Muller yoghurt (Nick doesn’t buy that brand which means they’re Harry’s and therefore expired), a single can of diet coke, and a leftover kebab. He shuts the door without taking anything out and turns back to Jonathan, “Do you want me to say it on the show this morning?”

“Yes, we’ll bring Sara in at the end for a little chat about the news. The whole world will be listening so we might as well draw it out until the end and increase your figures.  No callers for a few days. I’ve got a whole fleet of employees who can call in for features if need be. Immediately after the show we’re doing an interview with Heat about the future of Radio One. And after that we’ve got you set up for a photo shoot for a campaign on dog adoption you’ll be doing pro bono for the shelter you got Duke at. Where is Duke?”

“In the garden. He was barking too much so I put him out.”

“Do you need to do anything with him or are you fine to leave? Security has arrived.”

“Security? What do we need security for?”

****

* * *

 

“About one million paparazzi outside my house this morning, Matt Fincham. I thought it was daylight for a minute and had a bit of a panic I was late,” Nick finds himself babbling an hour later on the radio. “But then I started to go blind and I remembered sunlight doesn’t do that. Well unless you’re looking completely straight into the sun.”  Jonathan shoots Nick a warning look.

“Have you ever had paparazzi outside of your home, Matt Fincham?”

“Oh, all the time,” Matt drawls. “They’re actually quite intimidating though aren’t they? I’ve been to a few red carpet events and it gets really bad.”  

“It does. What do people who get seizures do I wonder? LMC can you google it? Celebrities who have epilepsy? Add that to the list of words I can’t say:  thrift shop, best British breakout, and epilepsy. And now it’s time for the news with Tina Daheley.”

He switches over to Tina and turns to Jonathan with an apologetic smile, “This show is about pop culture and me wanging on about myself for hours. I’m not sure exactly what you expect me to say.”  

“No, no that was good, Nick. Exactly what I said: draw the audience,” Jonathan bobs his head a bit without looking up from the laptop he’s got perched on his knees. “How long is this break, Matt? I’ve got to make a phone call.”

“Nine minutes,” Matt replies. “We’re going straight into two records once Tina is done.”

 **** During the break, Nick pulls his mobile from his pocket. It’s been off since the morning and when he switches it on now hundreds of notifications beep their arrival. He scans through the names without checking the messages and comes to the end without him having spotted Harry’s name.  Nick’s gut twists and he drops his phone down next to the keyboard, “Laura May. what’s the news on Twitter?”

“Anne and Gemma have tweeted their support,” LMC pipes up from behind a computer screen. “They’re both listening to the show and Gemma’s been replying to angry One Direction fans.”

“They’re lovely,” Nick lets out a heavy sigh. “Why couldn’t I have kept them in the divorce? I would have settled for shared custody.”

“Would you have shared your family with Harry?”

Nick sniffs haughtily, “As the dumpee, not the dumper, I reserve the right to keep my family, all mutual friends, and his blue plaid shirt because it’s really flattering on me. It’s only fair.”

“Oh god, you would be a terrible ex,” Matt Fincham groans. “You’d be like Taylor Swift except you’ve got three hours a day to complain about your ex. Have you returned his stuff yet?”

“No. He’s been gone hasn’t he? Is it like in the films? Do I just put it in a box and leave it on his doorstep. Or can I sell it all on ebay? I’ve got his spare toothbrush with his DNA on it and everything.”  Instead of them laughing like Nick expected, everyone falls silent and looks away.

“What?”

“You can probably just throw that out Nick,” Fiona tells him softly. “You don’t have to return that.”

“Oh, right of course. He can afford a new one can’t he?”

****

* * *

 

There are four pictures: All of them from a friend’s party and in spectacularly high definition. In the first they’re on the couch together with Aimee next to them. Nick’s got his arm slung over Harry’s shoulder and it would have been completely innocent if not for the ridiculously sappy look they’re sharing. The second shows Harry perched on Nick’s knee, his head tucked into Nick’s neck and his nose pressed playfully under Nick’s chin. They’ve taken over the couch in the third: Nick lounging back and Harry sprawled out over his chest, Harry’s hand tucked in the collar of Nick’s shirt and Nick’s long fingers loosely scratching at Harry’s head. And the fourth is from later that night when they’d both gotten too tipsy and too loose. Harry’s got Nick pressed to the refrigerator by his hips and they’re kissing hot and open mouthed.  Nick’s hands scratching their way up the back of Harry’s shirt and Harry’s hand just visible stuffed down the back of Nick’s jeans.

****

* * *

 

Two weeks pass before Nick can leave his house without sunglasses.  Harry’s front page news almost continuously throughout this period: he goes to dinner with Jennifer Lawrence when they’re both in Vienna (Nick eats a carton of ice cream and refuses to leave his house the entire weekend), rumours fly when he picks out a girl from the audience and takes her to drinks after the show, there are pictures of him spilling out of a club in Amsterdam with two scantily dressed women on his arm, and he’s on the cover of Attitude with the bold words: “Two Directions”.

He doesn’t call or text.

“You haven’t either,” Aimee reminds him gently. She’s brought Thurston over to play with Duke and Ian over to play with Nick.

“But I’m the one who got dumped. If I called it would be pathetic.”

“I think there are extenuating circumstances in this case,” Ian points out; he’s on the floor playing with the dogs instead of comforting Nick like he’s supposed to.

“I don’t want to talk to him if he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Nick insists.

“Don’t be a child, Nick,” Aimee flicks him on the nose. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“The Daily Mail called me thirty in their last article,” Nick reminds her. “Not the one where they made thinly veiled accusations that I was giving Harry drugs - The one with the thinly veiled accusations that I’m a dirty paedophile.”

“I’ll get the wine.”

****

* * *

 

 **HEAT EXCLUSIVE** : Nick Grimshaw and the Second Coming of Radio One

_(excerpt)_

INT: Now you’re obviously in a unique position because you’re a celebrity in your own right.

Nick: (laughs) I don’t know if I’d go that far.

INT: You’re on the cover of virtually every tabloid this week.

Nick: That’s not me though. Nobody cares who I date. They care who he [Harry Styles] dates.  

INT: Is that why you kept your relationship private?

Nick:  We weren’t hiding out at home or anything: we would go out, but yeah, that was part of the reason, but I think a lot of it was us just stumbling around in the dark trying to figure out what we were and see if our friendship even worked as a couple. So what would we have even said to people if we didn’t even know?  I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to relationships and Harry was gone so much... just not meant to be, I suppose.

INT: So things are over between you now?

Nick: It’s been over for awhile. I think we knew going into it that it would be hard with both our work schedules and sometimes things just don’t work out no matter how much you want them to. But there are no hard feelings. I truly wish him the best. Though I might feel a bit better about myself if he got fat or started balding.

****

* * *

 

“I’m coming to London for a shoot. Are you allowed to leave your house yet?”

“I think I’m growing accustomed to being a hermit,” Nick grins into the phone. RJ is pretty and has a nice cock and Nick hasn’t had sex since Coachella. “My couch has this nice indentation of my bum that’s quite nice to sit in.”

“I don’t think you’d be doing much sitting if I were at your house,” RJ teases. “But let’s go out. We can get dressed up and show Styles what he’s missing. And maybe I’ll fuck you in the toilets at Groucho like the olden days.”

“All rumors I swear.”

“C’mon it’ll be fun. I’m too pretty to keep locked up inside.”

“Yeah, yeah. You get paid to be pretty. We know...”

“So is that a yes?” RJ asks hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.”

 

* * *

 

_(Beep)_

Hi Nick. It’s Anne. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me, but I just wanted to call and reassure you that neither Gemma or I are speaking to the press so anything the Mail prints I’ve said is absolute rubbish... Harry called today and asked if I’d spoken to you. I think he wanted to know that you’re okay. Are you okay Nick? It’s disgusting some of the things people have been saying about you. Just know that they’re not true, alright? You were good for him Nick. I know you were. He’s not had the best luck with friends. They keep running off to the press, but I think it might have been because all that luck went to finding you.

Listen to me rambling on. If you need anything give me a ring, okay Nick?

 

* * *

 

**GRIMMY MODELS GOOD BEHAVIOR**

_While ex-boyfriend Harry Styles goes in the wrong direction, Nick Grimshaw has demonstrated how to get over a break up the American way._

Radio One Breakfast Host Nick Grimshaw was seen out on the town with American supermodel RJ King last night. The pair dined at one of Nick’s favorite restaurants in London: La Bodega Negra. The two were dressed to the nines in dark suits from Burberry (Nick) and Raf Simons (King).

A source who was dining at the restaurant said, “They were smiling at each other the whole night. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nick’s got himself a new beau.”

The couple then headed over to Groucho for drinks, but were spotted leaving before midnight.

Hopefully King doesn’t mind sloppy seconds. Nick has previously been photographed at the restaurant with ex Harry Styles. The curly haired One Direction crooner has been linked to several girls including The Hunger Games star Jennifer Lawrence after he recently announced his bisexuality. The star is also under fire for what insiders are calling “excessive drinking”.

****

* * *

 

Eileen greets Nick outside the house before he even manages to make it out of his car entirely and envelopes him in a huge hug despite her being half of his size: “Oh, Nick. You got yourself into a right mess haven’t you?”

“Hi, Mum. You got the home phone number changed alright, yeah? No more calls?”

“Your father worked it out. Did I tell you The Sun offered us ten thousand pounds for an exclusive? I almost took it. Ten thousand pounds! We could finally finish that extension on the back of the house.”

“You probably could have got fifty,” Nick tells her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,” She admonishes him. “Get your bag and come inside.”

“Did your mum tell you about the Sun calling?” Peter asks the moment Nick walks through the door. “I told her it was rubbish. Ain’t no way would someone spend ten thousand pounds to hear about who you’ve shagged.”

****

* * *

 

“Did you really shag Harry Styles?” A caller asks, without warning, live on air.

Nick coughs, “Erm...”

“Aren’t you like, old?” She asks; her voice rich with disdain.

“I’m only nine years older than him,” Nick squawks indignantly . “Have a good day at college, Siobhan! Bye!”

Matt switches them straight into a record and winces at Nick in sympathy, “Guess our careful  screening process was bound to fail eventually.”

“Nobody under the age of thirty allowed from now on: except for me . We’ll steal Radio 2’s demographic straight out from under their feet.”

“Can we get the TV’s on in here?” LMC interrupts suddenly. “I think you might want to see this.”

One of the screens in the corner flickers onto This Morning and there’s Harry live, meaning he’s in London a day earlier than he was meant to arrive according to Nick’s calendar sync. There are bags under his eyes, but he looks good and he’s talking about Nick.

“We just got along right from the start,” Harry says, a faint smile bringing out just the dimple on his left cheek not the one on the right. “I had watched him on Switch and T4 growing up so it was a bit surreal suddenly being mates with him. But we were both in Manchester one day so we met up and went shopping and things kind of just progressed from there.”

“And how did you move from friends to a relationship?” Holly asks.

“I kissed him,” He states proudly, eyes going wistful. “Proper romantic. It was raining and there was a lampost all lit up like in a film. He laughed at me of course - called me a numpty. And then I was horribly embarrassed because I had never kissed a man before and he was laughing at me and I was wet and starting to get cold... So it took a lot longer than that for us to get together for real, but we figured it out eventually.”

“Turn it off,” Nick orders suddenly, shifting through the desk frantically for a remote control and knocking several objects onto the ground in his haste. They were getting to the point in the conversation where Harry would say it was over now and Nick couldn’t listen to that, not again. “Someone turn it off right now.”

Ian presses the power button on the display screen and the room goes utterly silent other than the hum of machinery. LMC looks horrified, “Oh god. Sorry. I thought you might want to see what he was saying, but yeah, I wasn’t thinking.”

Nick shakes his head, “No it’s fine. I just need to focus on the show, right? Big Boss Ben Cooper is in the Live Lounge as we speak. Finchy, go see if he’ll play Showquizness today.”

****

* * *

 

It’s nearly three by the time Nick finishes up at the studio and he’s desperate to crawl into bed and shut out the world for a few hours, but when he arrives home there’s a pop star sitting on his couch petting his dog. Nick takes one look at him and then walks straight into his bedroom without saying a word. He climbs in fully clothed and buries his head under his pillows.

“You got a dog.”

“Go away,” Nick whines.

The bed dips, “Nick. Can you just talk to me?”

“There’s nothing else to say. Except for ‘please give me back my key.’”

“Sorry,” Harry doesn’t sound sorry. “I would have waited outside but, you know. Paps.”

“Why are you here at all?”

“Hmm. Let me think. Might have something to do with pictures of us being spread across the internet and my face on the cover of Attitude.”

“Fine,” Nick mumbles into the mattress. “You have two minutes.”

“I miss you,” Harry’s hand comes down hot and heavy on Nick’s ankle. “I miss us.”

“Well, shouldn’t have broken up with me then,” Nick retorts and he knows he sounds like a child but Harry’s poking a wound that hasn’t fully healed yet and it hurts.

“You agreed it was for the best.”

“You were dumping me!” Nick’s voice verges on hysteria.

“You could have fought for me.”

“I did fight for you,” And maybe Nick’s sitting up and yelling now and maybe his eyes are starting to prickle with tears and maybe he’s got to surreptitiously wipe away bogies on his sleeve, but he hopes Harry doesn’t notice. “I fought for you every day! We had a fucking open relationship just so I could hold onto you a little bit longer. And I really didn’t mind, Harry. I really didn’t mind that you were fucking groupies or models because you kept coming back to me and that was enough. Who cares who you’re sticking your dick in if you’re coming home to me and celebrating birthdays and holidays with me and making me eggs in the morning and picking me up from work?

And I was willing to fight for that Harry: Against Hackford and Simon Cowell and millions of screaming teenagers and the fucking Sun! I would have fought all of them every day because I thought I could make you happy and it would have been worth it. But I wasn’t going to fight against you Harry. Not when you were telling me that I couldn’t make you happy. That you didn’t want to come home to me. That I wasn’t enough.”

The hand on Nick’s ankle disappears. A door opens and shuts.

****

* * *

 

“Harry was waiting for me when I got home.”

“What?” Aimee shrieks into the phone. “Why are you whispering Nick? Is he still there?”

“We fought. Well I kind of threw a lot at him feelings wise. He locked himself in the toilet,” Nick tornadoes his way around the kitchen. “Where’s the corkscrew?”

Aimee ignores his question: “He locked himself in the toilet? Your toilet? For how long?”

“At least an hour. Maybe he fell asleep? He looked tired.”

“Nick,” Aimee asked carefully. “Have you asked him why he locked himself in the toilet?”

“I figured he wanted to be alone,” Nick shrugs. “Do you think it’s alright to just leave him here? I was supposed to meet Rita for tea.”

“Nick, I’m hanging up on you. Go talk to him.”

Nick takes a deep breath and a shot of tequila before he clomps back up the stairs. He knocks gently, “Harry? Are you alright?”

“No.”

“Okay, um. Do you want me to leave? I had dinner plans with Rita...”

The door cracks open, “Can I come?”

“We just had weeks of press telling everyone that we’re not together anymore and you want to go eat with me and Rita? Are you insane?”

****

* * *

 

“Harry,” Rita exclaims when she sees him, her eyes wide in surprise as she stands up to greet them. “Nick didn’t say you were coming?”

“I just tagged along,” Harry gives her a kiss on the cheek and takes the seat across from her.

“Why’d you get such a big table anyway?” Nick asks, carefully choosing the seat next to Rita instead of Harry.

“The Sun is going to have a field day between ,” Cara deadpans as she walks up behind them raising a perfectly sculpted and charmingly thick eyebrow. She dumps her purse onto the table and collapses heavily into the seat next to Harry. “How many innuendos do you think they can fit in one article.”

“Trifecta odds on how many of you I’ll be paired with in the papers? I’ll take all three,” Harry grins .

“How did this even come about? Last I heard you two were dividing up the friends and me and Rita were caught in limbo,” Cara is as tactless as ever as she flags down a waiter for wine immediately.

“I lost everyone in the divorce,” Harry looks up at Nick from under his ridiculous eyebrows. “Nick took them all.”

“They were my friends first,” Nick pouts. “Stop trying to play the sympathy card. As the dumpee I reserve the rights to all sympathy.”

“Nick,” Rita admonishes, but Harry’s laughing and his cheek is dimpling.

Cara rolls her eyes, "Oh leave him be. That's just Nick attempting to flirt. Is there bread? Have we ordered?"

****

* * *

 

The drive back to Nick’s place isn’t as awkward as the drive there. Supper with Rita and Cara had broken the ice and Nick’s never been comfortable with silence so he fills the air with chatter about what the Breakfast Show team has been up to lately and listens carefully while Harry tells a slow story about finding the best burger in the world down a side street in Venice.

“Why were you getting a burger in Venice? Shouldn’t you be getting pasta or pizza or summat? It’s Italy?”

“I wanted a burger. Don’t question fate, Nick. One day I’ll take you there and you’ll be so glad that I had a craving because it is the best burger in the world.”

And this is the moment where there’s usually silence. Where they realize that the ‘One Day’ might be years in the future, but today Harry ambles on unheeded, “When I get back from America we’ll go, yeah? Can you get time off? There’s this record shop that only sells rap music from the nineties. And I bet you’d look hilarious on a gondola.”

“Did you forget we broke up?” Nick blurts out. “Is that what this has been? You hit your head and got month long amnesia?”

“No I just. I just thought...”

Nick kills the power in the car and makes his way hastily across the street towards his front door, using his jacket as cover for the rain, “I’ve got work in the morning. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Nick,” Harry calls out to him. Nick turns reluctantly. Harry’s  quiff is flattened by the rain and it’s dripping a heavy stream down his nose but his mouth is quirked up into a tentative smile. “It’s raining and there’s a streetlight. And I love you.”

“I thought that wasn’t enough for you,” Nick snaps back. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything has changed, Nick!” Harry laughs. “There’s a paparazzi on the corner and I could kiss you right here on the street in the rain. And you could visit me on tour and be my date to award shows. And we can walk your dog in the park and hold hands. I couldn’t give you that before. I couldn’t be as much as you deserved.”

Nick thinks about turning around and going back inside. He thinks about how much easier his life would be if he wasn’t in love with a nineteen year old heartthrob. He thinks about all of the angry comments on twitter calling him a paedophile, saying he stole Harry away from Louis, saying he turned Harry gay. He thinks about his mum calling him crying because of something a woman in a shop said about Nick. He thinks about how he has his dream job and the chance of losing it.

And he thinks about Harry. He thinks about the stupid slack-jawed look Harry gets on his face when he’s watching the Simpsons. Thinks about how Harry sometimes gets this itch under his skin and has to disappear for weeks at a time. Thinks about how clingy Harry gets when he’s tired and how he steals Nick’s clothes and all of the blankets. Thinks about how sometimes Harry doesn’t use enough lube.

Thinks he might be crazy because none of those are deal breakers, because it’s Harry.

So they kiss under the streetlamp in the pouring rain while a paparazzi snaps their picture. The rain makes it slick and too wet, but Nick thinks it’s probably the best kiss of his life. And then he stops thinking about anything but finding his key in his pocket, the burn of Harry using too little lube as he slides inside him, and the feel of Harry’s lips pressed to his.

****

* * *

 


End file.
